


Best Of All

by RaeDMagdon



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Gentle Sex, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, SMUTCATION, Sleep Sex, Sleepy Sex, Slow Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 05:30:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12269868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeDMagdon/pseuds/RaeDMagdon
Summary: The Ark didn’t have mornings—not real ones, anyway. Morning was just when the UV-filtered ceiling lights turned on and everyone got out of bed. Now, things are different. Clarke is woken by the sun’s rays falling on her face instead of artificial lights, and the only noise she hears is Lexa’s soft breathing beside her.





	Best Of All

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for Smutcation was just "soft Clexa". So here is some soft Clexa.
> 
> I edited it, but if there are typos, it’s because I wrote the first draft on a plane with the screen turned completely off. The lady next to me was nosey, and not in a good way.
> 
> As always, I'm @raedmagdon on tumblr, twitter, and FB.

Mornings are Clarke’s second favorite thing about Earth.

The Ark didn’t have mornings—not real ones, anyway. Morning was just when the UV-filtered ceiling lights turned on and everyone got out of bed. There was nothing special for Clarke to remember about them, just the blare of her alarm as the comforting fog of sleep slipped away.

Now, things are different. Clarke is woken by the sun’s rays falling on her face instead of artificial lights, and the only noise she hears is Lexa’s soft breathing beside her.

She cracks one eye open. Lexa is still fast asleep, so Clarke takes a moment to study her face. Her brow is smooth, relaxed, and she’s much younger-looking these days. Clarke likes to think part of that is her influence. All work and no play will wear anyone out, even a machine of efficiency like Lexa.

Clarke is content to stay like that for a while, resting on her side and watching the subtle rise and fall of Lexa’s chest. Considering the things they’ve been through, Clarke is grateful for every breath her lover draws. But even though she can stare at Lexa for hours, Clarke soon grows restless. Looking is one thing, but touching is better. She reaches out, running her hand along Lexa’s side.

Lexa doesn’t stir. Her breaths remain steady and even, and her eyes don’t even flutter. Clarke waits in hope, but no. Lexa is still fast asleep.

At first, Clarke is disappointed. One of the reasons she loves mornings so much is because she gets to stare into Lexa’s lovely green eyes when they first open. But Lexa’s persistent slumber offers interesting possibilities.

Clarke scoots closer to Lexa’s side. She cups Lexa’s hip first, enjoying how the lean curve feels in her palm. She will never tire of Lexa’s body no matter how well she knows its landscape. After checking to make sure Lexa’s eyes are closed, Clarke grows more daring. She skims her fingertips along Lexa’s belly, playing over the firm muscles there. Lexa’s abdominals aren’t tensed, but they are still deliciously firm.

Lexa moans. Her eyes flutter, and Clarke pauses, but nothing comes of it. Lexa remains fast asleep, and despite her earlier hopes, Clarke is pleased. This way, she gets to wake Lexa herself. Her course of action decided, Clarke is content to take her time. There is no rush as she traces patterns on Lexa’s belly, and the trails she draws up to Lexa’s breasts are equally unhurried.

Enjoying Lexa’s skin is enough for a while, but eventually, the urge to touch transforms into the urge to taste. Lexa’s neck is closest, so Clarke leans forward to place a kiss at the crook of her shoulder.

Lexa stirs again. The bedfurs rustle as she stretches her limbs, but her eyes remain shut. Clarke waits until her breathing has evened out, then places another kiss over the same spot as the first.

Two kisses become three, and three become a series that Clarke doesn’t bother to keep track of. They’re light at first, more butterfly kisses than anything, but soon Clarke grows bolder. She draws a tempting patch of Lexa’s flesh between her lips and sucks, careful not to use her teeth, but deliberately tasting the sleep-sweat lingering there.

As always, Lexa tastes like home. Clarke doesn’t know what it is about her, but her skin is simply delicious. So delicious that Clarke wants to drag her tongue all the way up Lexa’s neck to the lobe of her ear. She restrains herself. That will end her game too soon.

Clarke shifts her position, peeling the bedfurs away from Lexa’s lower half. Lexa is naked underneath, as she usually is while sleeping, and Clarke takes a moment to drink the vision in. She has examined Lexa thoroughly and from every angle, both as a lover and an artist, but Lexa never ceases to amaze. If Clarke didn’t know better, she’d swear Lexa is sculpted from the same golden sunlight that bathes Earth in such beauty during the day.

Entrancing as the view is, Clarke’s longing outstrips her admiration. She crawls between Lexa’s legs, gently urging them to spread so she has a space to kneel. The dipping of the bed doesn’t seem to disturb Lexa. She remains lost to the world, completely at peace.

Clarke lowers herself on her hands and knees over Lexa’s sleeping form, considering where to begin. Lexa’s collarbone calls to her, so she dusts some kisses there first, careful not to use her teeth. She wants Lexa to enjoy the fuzzy world between awake and asleep a little longer. Lexa’s eyes twitch behind their thin lids, and Clarke wonders if Lexa’s dreams are of her. She hopes so, and she wants to make sure they’re pleasant ones.

Slowly, Clarke makes her way down to Lexa’s breasts. She cups the left in her hand and lowers her lips to the right, breathing a stream of cool air across the tip and watching in wonder as it stiffens. The brown peak takes on a reddish tinge at the edges, and Clarke soothes the ache with her tongue, laving it with flat licks.

That’s when Lexa finally opens her eyes. She gasps, gazing down at Clarke with a look of sleepy, adorable confusion.

Clarke finally allows herself to use her teeth. She tugs Lexa’s nipple, growling softly, playfully.

“Have I slept too long?” Lexa asks, her voice still throaty with sleep.

Clarke releases Lexa’s breast. “No. I just wanted to wake you up.”

“You did?” Lexa reaches down to caress Clarke’s hair, and Clarke preens at the attention. “Well, you have succeeded. Are you sure that’s all you wanted?”

“You know it isn’t.” Clarke kisses her way across Lexa’s chest, taking the other nipple in her mouth. Lexa groans, and the grip on Clarke’s hair grows tighter.

Clarke spends a good while there, using flicks and swirls to keep Lexa hovering on the edge. She knows her lover’s limits well. Soon, Lexa’s hips rock upward, trying to find purchase against Clarke’s stomach.

“Relax,” Clarke purrs, kissing her way down the line that bisects Lexa’s stomach muscles. “Enjoy this.”

“That,” Lexa murmurs, “will not be a problem,  _Klark.”_

“I know it won’t.” Clarke ducks beneath Lexa’s knees, but she doesn’t go straight for her target. She kisses and nips Lexa’s lean legs first, going from knee to hipbone several times on each side. It’s a slow process, one Clarke knows must be torturous from Lexa’s point of view, but she can’t help herself. As much as she loves rough, passionate sex, some mornings are made for slow lovemaking like this.

Soon, Lexa’s smell is deep in Clarke’s nose and she can see her lover’s lips gleaming with wetness. They’re slick and shiny, and Clarke’s tongue waters to lick them clean. So she does, bending her head and caressing Lexa’s whole with a single breath, swiping her tongue over all she can reach.

Lexa spreads her legs wider and digs her heels into Clarke’s shoulders, but Clarke is determined to set her own pace. She doesn’t speed up, nor does she deliver focused attention where Lexa needs it most. She is patient, methodical, almost strategic as she carries Lexa higher. Her motives are slightly selfish as well. She has grown addicted to Lexa’s taste, to the salty sweetness that pools at Lexa’s entrance, as if waiting for a tongue to collect it.

She is equally hungry for the noises Lexa makes, sounds that range from low moans to needy, high-pitched cries. The longer Clarke licks, the faster those cries come. When Lexa makes a particularly pleading mewl, Clarke moves upward, abandoning Lexa’s entrance for her clit. It’s already swollen, poking out from beneath its hood, and it’s wet before Clarke pulls it into her mouth.

When she begins to suck, Lexa’s thighs jerk beside her head. They tense and release, clenching with each draw of Clarke’s mouth. Clarke slides her hands beneath Lexa’s rear, wanting to feel the muscles there too. She isn’t disappointed. Lexa’s entire body is rocking to the same rhythm, and with her new grip, Clarke can continue with more purpose.

Beneath her, Lexa grows restless. Her noises become less needful and more demanding, and her nails rake over Clarke’s scalp, trying to offer direction. Clarke knows she doesn’t have long. Lexa is occasionally limp and compliant beneath her, but never for too long. Their relationship is one of equals, and Lexa seems eager for her turn.

With a moan of mingled regret and anticipation, Clarke focuses her attention. She rolls her tongue over the tip of Lexa’s clit, making sure to keep a tight seal, and uses her chin to keep pressure on Lexa’s sensitive lips as well.

_“Klark!”_

That’s the only warning Clarke receives. Lexa’s climax is swift and powerful, and Clarke feels echoes of it between her own thighs as heat pulses into her mouth. She can’t drink it down while holding Lexa’s clit so tightly, so she alternates, sucking for a few seconds, then opening to catch some of the flood.

Beneath her, Lexa finds a surge of energy. Her body draws taut, trembling from head to toe, and the jagged thrusts of her pelvis are difficult for Clarke to keep up with. She tries anyway, determined to draw out Lexa’s pleasure as long as she can. Lexa deserves this. They both do. This is their well-earned reward, a golden morning where Clarke has nothing to worry about except easing Lexa down from a very powerful peak.

When it’s over, Clarke doesn’t feel disappointed. Instead, she is utterly content. She sighs and rests her cheek on Lexa’s sticky thigh, continuing to breathe in the scent she loves so much, savoring the lingering taste in her mouth.

 _“Klark,”_  Lexa murmurs, caressing her damp cheek.  _“Ai hod yu in.”_

Clarke smiles.  _“Ai hod yu in seintaim.”_

And that’s Clarke’s favorite thing about Earth. At first, she had loved it for its blooming life and seemingly endless possibilities. Then she had hated it for the savagery beneath its beauty—a savagery she was ashamed to see in her own people as well. Now, she has fallen in love with it, and with Lexa, again.

Only on Earth could something like this happen. Only on Earth could a lonely girl from the stars fall in love with a warrior-goddess of the forest, and only on Earth can they possibly make a home together, where they will never be parted again. And Clarke will fight with every breath in her body to make sure they are never parted.

But there is nothing to fear now. Not on this perfect morning—or perhaps afternoon now, judging from the glare of the sun. It’s obvious she and Lexa have stayed in bed much longer than usual, and yet Clarke can’t bring herself to care.

“Let’s stay in today,” she says, climbing up along the bed to lie at Lexa’s side. “Just the two of us. What do you say?”

Lexa’s smile is everything Clarke could have hoped for. “I say yes. Always yes.”


End file.
